Page 12 of Her Game Plan

“But you’re too easy to needle,” Chris replies. “Dad always thinks you’ll hold out longer than you do.”

“I’ve got things to do!”

Chris shrugs. “We all have things to do. We’re just better at being patient.”

“You have to manage one team that plays, like, twelve games a year,” I retort, though the fire is gone. I’ve never been patient, and I’m certainly not going to start when I’m waiting to hear the most important words my father will ever say to me. But regardless, I do as expected of me, engaging in yet another Langford family argument we like to recycle for everyone’s amusement. “I have two hundred and fifty events each year at the arena, plus all the concerts and events at the field.”

“We manage similarly sized teams and budgets.”

Chris and I continue debating who has the more challenging job until finally Dad interjects, “And this is exactly why I brought you both in here today.”

My attention snaps back to the man whose expectations I’ve been trying to meet my entire life. “What do you mean?” I ask.

Leaning back in his chair, Dad places the tips of his fingers together in a thoughtful pose. “You both know that, at your mother’s request, I’ve been putting plans in place to retire.”

“Yes…” I practically squeal.

My dad continues his speech as if I hadn’t interrupted, “I built this company from the ground up; ensuring its success for my children and grandchildren has always been the top priority for me. I might not be around forever to make sure you have what you need, but Langford Enterprises will be. And that is what has always been most important to me—my family. And making sure my family has what they need for generations to come.”

I resist the urge to tell the man to hurry it along. He has worked hard his entire life to build this company from a faltering cable business into an entertainment conglomerate. I can let him pontificate for a few minutes.

Probably.

“I know you’ve always been under the impression that I’ll be splitting the business equally between you, but, after many discussions with respected colleagues and, most importantly, your mother, I’ve concluded that I can’t, in good conscience, spin off half the business. If it’s split, part might be sold off down the road, and I cannot abide by that.”

Okay, that’s fine. Chris and I can take turns being CEO, or something. Not ideal, but fine. We can make it work.

Dad continues, “Which is why I’ve decided I’ll be naming my successor at the end of this football season and turning the entire company over to them. It’s the best way to ensure generations of Langfords will have the support they need to reach their potential.”

The room is so quiet I can hear Ulysses typing in the next room. Chris’ gaze meets mine, and we share an in-depth what-the-fuck exchange that only two twins could ever truly achieve.

“What?” he asks.

“I know this comes as a shock to you both. But it’s what’s best for the firm, and it’s what’s best for you, too. As Chris and Kim have had kids—as I’ve had grandkids—I’ve realized it was shortsighted of me to only consider what’s best for the next generation. We all need to be thinking about three generations from now. There will be nothing left if the company gets parceled up with each generation.”

I breathe in for the count of four and hold it, like my therapist taught me. This is the part of growing up as Steve Langford’s prodigy that leads a thirty-four-year-old woman to need a therapist since the age of eighteen. He thinks he knows best and won’t stop pushing until you do exactly what he wants you to do.

Which suggests Chris and I may be well and truly fucked.

Chapter 6

Charlotte

“I’m sorry, what?” It’s out of my mouth before I can even consider an alternative. This is dumb. Ludacris. When we were young, Dad loved playing games. He’s a big believer in competition making everything better: from products to people. He didn’t necessarily pit Chris and me against one another, but he certainly enjoyed it anytime we were in direct competition.

Fortunately, we’ve never let the competitive spirit get between us; our relationship is closer than that of any other siblings I know.

But this.

Chris’ mouth has dropped open, his gaze swinging between my dad and me. I try to use our twin telepathy to figure out what the fuck we’re going to do with the bomb Dad dropped, but he is too busy gaping.

Dad carries on like he’s updating us on financial projections for the next quarter, not announcing a complete change to his inheritance plans. “You both have done an amazing job in running the two primary divisions of Langford, but what I need to know is that you’re going to be able to run the entire company from now into the future. I need to know you can take on the part of the job you’ve never done before. So, starting next week, Chris will take over Langford Entertainment, and Charlotte will lead the Stallions.”

I laugh.

Because he’s joking.

Of course he is. I know nothing about football. Chris knows less than nothing about the music industry. It’s like their bet about how long I would hold out earlier. It’s all in good fun.